I’ve toiled long beneath the sun,
A hard day’s work is finally done,
But one stop first I have to make,
To find a house this coin to take,
For vow I’ve made, e’er sky doth pale,
I’ll drink some good brown country ale,
Hey la la dee dee da,
Hey la ley;
It was a drinking song heard in taverns and inns across Carandir. The voice drew closer.
A man stepped across a rubble filled gap in the wall. He wore brown breeches and a green jerkin. His dark hair flowed out from beneath a woolen cap. Draped around the back of his neck was a deer’s carcass. The man seemed consumed with his own thoughts, for he took no notice of the troops standing in the twilight.
Captain Yetig shouted, “Hold. What is your business here?”
The man dropped the deer, drew a bow and crouched low. “Stand back, thieves. You’ll not have my supper tonight.”
Yetig stepped in front of the king. “Archers, fire a warning.”
Carandir archers let loose a volley in a circle around the intruder. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands. “Can’t we talk this over? There’s plenty for both of us.”
Two soldiers seized the man and dragged him forward. Yetig said, “Who are you?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Answer my questions in the name of the king.”
“Of course. I’m certain his majesty sent you out personally to speak with me this evening.”
Haram leaned forward in the saddle. “Let us say it is more of a chance meeting.”
The man looked up. His defiant expression changed to one of recognition. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I meant no offense, Highness. I am a poor trapper. I thought you were brigands after my pelts. Please forgive me.”
Etera said, “Trapper? Poacher! These are the king’s lands, not yours. By what right do you trap his majesties game?”
“Please, Highness. Don’t hang me. I catch just enough to make a modest living, no more.”
The king said, “We mean you no harm, master trapper. What is your name?”
“Maltey, Highness.”
“Then let us feast on our royal deer that you have so conveniently shot for us. Captain, have some men help Maltey with the kill. Orane, speak with us.”
Orane followed the king as he eyed the trapper. “Is it safe to trust this man, majesty?”
“Certainly not. Yetig will keep him in check. I want you to send two messages by terec, one to the captain of our ship and the other to Narech Waser in Meth. Explain our delay and our expectations to reach the ship tomorrow. Let Waser know that Etera rides with us.”
“As you command, my king.”
Haram walked away to the queen’s carriage. Orane went to the rear of a wagon whose bed was filled with a wooden box large enough to ride in. Two younger Kyar scholars sat within, They wore the same type of roughly spun robes as Orane.
The chief Kyar motioned to some cages. “Pent, hand me a terec.”
The young man retrieved a small gray bird. Orane held the terec before him and stared into the animal’s hazel eyes. The bird stared back without blinking. Orane formed the king’s message to Narech Waser in his mind.
The rank of narech was held by the supreme commander of the Carandir army and navy. Waser had served as such from the time of Haram’s father.
When Orane finished the message, he traced a path in his thoughts for the bird to follow. He imagined the Great River, the body of water to the north where the king’s ship lay in anchor. It flowed from an unknown source in the east to the distant ocean in the west. The river was so wide it was impossible to see the far bank.
The land where Carandir sat was known as the south continent. Legend said that if a ship sailed far enough north it would cross the river and so come to the north continent and the lost city of Amblar. None knew for certain for no Carandirian had attempted that crossing for thousands of years.
Orane’s vision flew eastward along the southern bank that was lined with tall cliffs. A break appeared that led to a large body of water named the Bay of Hasp. Within the bay, the hills that formed the backs of the cliffs quickly tapered into plains. On the western shore of the bay sat Meth, the monarchy’s largest city. It boasted a thriving shipping port and was the capital of the barony of Lanteler.
Orane’s mind rode past the docks and wharves. He looked north again to the hills. Standing offshore of the bay, where the cliffs remained tall, was a pinnacle of stone that rose like a rock arm thrust up from the surface of the water. On its tip was the royal palace with its spires, towers, white walls and arched bridge that connecting it to a high plain of the mainland.
His vision soared into a window of the south tower, past gardens where grew every kind of tree and flower found in Carandir. He pictured Waser, past seventy, tall and thin with white hair. “To him,” thought Orane. “Take the message to this man.”
The terec’s eyes changed from hazel to green, indicating it had received the instructions. Once released, a terec would travel through wind and rain, day and night, pausing only to feed, until it delivered the message.
Orane released the bird. It darted into the sky and out of the keep. The chief Kyar sat on a stool in the wagon and closed his eyes in exhaustion. He could have simply formed an image of Waser’s face and allowed the bird to seek out the narech. A terec thus impressed was capable of flying anywhere without further direction, even to a place the sender had never been. But, such releases could take months.
He stood up and set about impressing the second terec.
Inside the keep, two soldiers made a bed near the hearth for the queen. Maltey helped them bring cushions from Vara's coach and arranged them. Telasec assisted the queen into the bed. A newly lit fire spread its warmth throughout the room. The haunches of the deer were set to roast and a barrel of ale was tapped. When the meat was cooked, Maltey helped carve. “This is a tender piece,” he said to a soldier. “You should give it to the queen.” They all ate a merry meal for the circumstances.
Mistress Neera fluffed pillows. Telasec placed her hand on Vara’s forehead. It was warm with a glisten of preparation. “How do you feel, my queen.”
The queen finished her portion of venison. “Strange. I can’t say how.”
Haram knelt at Vara’s side. Though he gave a confident smile, Telasec saw the concern on the king’s face.
He took Vara’s hand. “It’s not the feather bed I promised you tonight.”
Vara smiled back. “Just a pleasant adventure.” She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath.
Telasec checked her pulse. “Do you feel any pain. Highness?”
Vara breathed in gasps.
All pretense at joviality dropped from Haram. “I shall not leave your side.”
Vara gave a cry.
Haram said. “What is it?”
Telasec wiped sweat from Vara’s forehead. “The queen is in labor, Highness.” She was amazed as the birth was not due for nearly a month. She felt the erratic beat of the young queen’s heart and noted the pale hue of her cheeks. Telasec made the sign of the covenant and softly prayed, "Ilidel, Mother of Dragons, guide her through a safe birthing".
CHAPTER TWO
Telasec timed Vara’s contractions over the next span as they grew more frequent and intense. Haram held Vara’s hand. Telasec spoke the words of a healing spell that had been passed down from the wizards millennia before. Color returned to Vara’s cheeks.
Telasec said, “Push, Highness. Again.”
Vara panted and gave another push. A baby boy emerged. Blood covered the child, soaked the cloak Vara lay on and splattered Telasec’s arms. Mistress Neera cut the umbilical cord and Telasec held the infant aloft.
He gave a cry that resounded throughout the keep. Everyone cheered at the birth of the heir. Telasec felt the infant’s life radiating from his soul, pure and untouched.
The queen gave raspy groan. Telasec h
anded the child to Neera and bent down as, to her surprise, a second babe, also a boy, emerged from the womb. Every examination she had conducted showed the queen carried only one child.
Again, she felt vitality surge through her as she held the second infant. He appeared to be identical to his brother. Then, another feeling came. It was an icy wave that ran down her fingers. She had never experienced such a sensation at a birthing. The prickling vanished to be replaced by the usual warmth from a newborn.
The babes were brought to their mother to suckle. Vara inspected the first born, then his brother. Until she put them to her breast, they were unclaimed and without birthright. In the time before Avar, mothers sometimes rejected children born with missing limbs or bent backs. Such a one would never grow to farm the land or tend the herds and so would be left to die in the wilderness. Avar abolished the practice. But, from long tradition, mothers still checked their babies before allowing them to suckle.
Vara took the infants to her breasts. Even after so many births, Telasec marveled at the scene. Vara smiled wide with tears in her eyes as all sensation of pain seemed to vanish from her memory. “I am so tired, Telasec.”
“Rest, my queen. You have done well.”
Neera took the heir from Vara and sang a song as she rocked him.
Sleep my baby,
Safe and warm,
You shall never,
Come to harm"
Don’t let the Sarte,
Give you fright,
For they will not,
Have you tonight.
The babes were wrapped in warm cloaks and a blue ribbon was tied securely around the wrist of the firstborn before he was handed to Haram.
The king cradled his son with a wide grin on his face. “He is magnificent.” Haram rocked his heir and walked over to the other babe nestled in Vara’s arms. “And look here, My Lord barons. A second child as a bargain.”
Dek thought of how it had been over a month since he had seen his daughter, Mirjel. He asked himself what kind of world they were leaving these children. He wondered if they would be able to watch their own families grow up, or if they would they be lost in petty squabbles and the constant threat of conflict.
He gazed across the keep to the crystal sphere holding the crown. One of Yetig’s sergeants, pike in hand, stood at attention beside it. The soldier’s face contorted. He arched his back and fell to the stone floor to reveal Maltey standing behind him with a bloodied knife in his hand. The trapper opened the drawer in the wooden pedestal, reached inside and removed a silver key whose handle was forged in the shape of a leaping dragon.
Dek drew his sword. “Carandir. To the Crown.”
Yetig formed a phalanx of soldiers in front of the king and queen before leading his remaining troops across the keep. Orane followed.
Before Maltey could insert the key in the hole, the metal glowed first red then brilliant white. Dek smelled the sickening stench of burning flesh. Maltey screamed and dropped the key. With his injured hand cradled in the other, he ran to the side of the keep and pressed several small stones on the wall. A section swung open. He ran through and the secret door closed before Dek could reach it.
The baron sheathed his sword and pounded on the wall. Orane ran his hands along the stones. “There is a catch mechanism. We must find and press the keystones in a specific order.”
Dek stepped back. The Kyar’s hands pushed in on one small stone, then another. “I think I know this sequence.” When he pressed three stones simultaneously there was an audible click and the secret door opened again. Dek led the soldiers down a flight of stairs.
At the bottom was a long corridor lined with metal doors. Maltey knelt in front of one. Beside him was a discarded vial. He now wore crimson robes that were the same color as the swatch of fabric Dek had found next to the river. A leather pouch was secured around Maltey’s neck with twine. He winced from the pain of his seared hand as he clutched a squirming rabbit. In his other he held the knife he had killed the soldier with. Two designs were traced on the ground with yellow powder. One resembled a fish, the other a pair of entwined snakes.
Maltey sliced the rabbit’s throat. Blood splattered the symbols as he recited an incantation.
The door rattled. Dek’s skin tingled and he had the unnerving sensation of a presence sleeping in the shadows. He heard Orane shout, “Back up the stairs. Quickly.”
Fiery pain shot through Dek’s head. He cried out and stumbled back as the metal door distorted outward in the form of a clawed hand. In the chill air, Dek saw Maltey hold tightly to the charm around his neck. The cell door burst open and a dark whirlwind emerged into the corridor.
Dek felt the warmth of his body sucked away as the formless creature advanced. The soldiers were in full rout. Dek bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. At the top, he shouted to Neera, “Take the babes. Flee from this place.”
The Daro healer scooped the infants up, one in each arm.
Dek knew it was a demon that pursued him. He had read how such places existed in Carandir, remote caves and fortresses where sprits who had followed Baras were imprisoned by the wizards eons before.
The demon burst through the door. Two soldiers attacked. The whirling creature lifted them from the floor, snapped their necks and dropped their bodies to the ground.
Dek heard a crack and dropped to the floor as a large timber sailed overhead and crashed against the far wall. He looked across the room. A soldier held one of the infants in his arms as he ran from the keep. Neera handed the other babe to a second soldier who followed his comrade out into the courtyard. The healer turned to help the queen stand.
King Haram ran to the crystal sphere and picked up the dragon shaped key from the floor. This time, the key did not glow or grow hot. Only the true and rightful sovereigns of Carandir, king or queen, were able to touch that key without suffering harm.
Haram placed it in the hole and turned it once around. A horizontal line appear around the middle of the crystal. The top of the sphere hinged open like a box to reveal the crown.
Before Haram could take it, he was seized by the demon. It dragged him into the center of the room and shook him violently as a dog might do to kill its prey. Then it hurled the king aside. Haram struck a wall and fell to the floor.
Near the hearth, Neera supported the queen as the two women hurried toward the door. The demon turned at their movement as it made for them. Soldiers moved to block the monster’s path. The whirlwind threw them aside like straw in a storm. When the demon reached the two women it raised them off the ground. Dek heard a wet crack as both of their heads flopped to the side and their bodies went limp.
Dek ran to the king and turned him gently on his side. “Majesty. Can you hear me?” Haram looked up and Dek saw a dazed look on his monarch’s face. A flicker of motion caught Dek’s eye. He turned to see Maltey, still in his red robes, making his way toward the open sphere. The king spoke in a near whisper. “Dek. Take the crown. Confine the demon.”
“How, sire?”
Haram started to speak, then fell to the floor.
Dek ran to the crown. As he did, he saw that his own movement had attracted the demon.
Maltey reached the sphere first but Dek was there an instant later. He grabbed Maltey from behind, pinning the man’s arms to his sides. Maltey stomped his heel down on Dek’s toes. The baron gritted his teeth but held tight.
The demon moved closer. Dek felt the room grow cold. Maltey said, “I will enjoy seeing your face twist as the demon rips your soul out.”
“You’ll die too, dog of hell.”
“Baras protects his servants.”
Dek spied the pouch dangling around Maltey’s neck. He seized it and ripped it away, holding to it tightly. Maltey’s face turned white. He screamed and thrashed. The baron held tight to the pouch as he pushed Maltey away.
Then, the demon was upon them. Dek prayed to Jorondel more fervently then had ever done before. He was never able to say later if it was divine inter
vention or the magic in the pouch that saved his life. He only knew that the whirling cloud touched him, surrounded him, but did him no harm.
Maltey, however, was raised off the ground. Dek turned away as the demon slowly dismembered Maltey’s body. The Baron had never heard such screams. He looked up for a moment to see that the Barasha priest’s arms were broken and twisted in dozens of places so that they hung like the entrails of a slaughtered sheep.
Dek dropped the pouch, grasped the crown with both hands and placed it on his head. “Back,” he shouted. “Vanish. Be gone.”
The whirlwind paused and dropped Maltey’s body to the floor. Then, it moved slowly toward Dek.
The baron searched for whatever secret would activate the crown’s power. "Jorondel protect me,” he said. He reached for his sword, knowing it would not stop the demon. Still, he could think of nothing else to do.
Haram’s words from that morning came to him. What was the crown? He remembered answering that it was Carandir itself. He wondered if that were the land or the army. No, he told himself. Carandir’s strength was in the never ending vigilance of its people and all the ideals set out by Avar and the dragons.
The world around him fell into focus with more clarity than he had ever known. He saw the demon not as a whirlwind but as a nine foot tall, hairless wraith with long talons for fingers and a mottled gray complexion.
It wasn’t so much that Dek saw or heard things. He knew them. He knew that the king was badly hurt yet still lived and that the queen had departed this world and journeyed to the Dragons’ Halls.
As well, he now knew how to shut the demon away in a cell beneath the keep. He expected such knowledge to come as instructions. Instead, he was immersed in the memories and experiences of ancient kings and queens. He knew their dreams; their hopes; their fears. To Dek, it seemed that hours had passed. Yet, in human terms, it took less than a heartbeat.
All he had to do was think of the demon walking back down the stairs to the dungeon. The creature hissed and spit and clawed at the air. Still, it went. Orane followed.
Dragons Unremembered Page 3